


How the Gems Glow

by CassetteBro



Category: League of Legends
Genre: (Also I refuse to acknowledge Garen & Katarina I donotsee), (Garen is not used to having sex but Taric treats him right), (I have no idea of what else to add but ya), (They're reunited for the first time since Mount Targon), (enjoy the snack), Angst, Domesticity, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Frotting, Lux Crownguard (mentionned), M/M, Sylas (mentionned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23214946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassetteBro/pseuds/CassetteBro
Summary: "Most people would use their punishment to Mount Targon as an opportunity to flee, and start anew somewhere else.Taric did not. And it haunted Garen. "
Relationships: Garen Crownguard/Taric
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	How the Gems Glow

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is super self-indulgent but... I want to thank my friend @redwolves for proof-reading this fic, it was really nice of them! Especially since they're not in the fandom.

Garen was aware of Taric's fate. When rumours started arising that his childhood friend was reborn as an Aspect, he couldn't, wouldn't ignore them. But he hadn't searched for him, kept too busy by his duty to Demacia.

And maybe, deep down, he was scared. Scared of how much the man would've changed, scared he would be angry. After all, Garen had shunned him as much as the others, if not worse. At the time he felt betrayed that such a powerful man would refuse to take his training seriously, insulted that someone who could best him in combat would rather spend his time frolicking around. 

He'd said things he regretted. Done things under the influence of anger, disrespected one of the people dearest to his heart. But back then Taric hadn't held him accountable for it, despite how hard Garen would try to get a rise out of him.

And then, there was Mount Targon.

A coldness had grown in his chest cavity, gnawing at his heart, lungs and bones. Something depressing, a feeling of loneliness and failure, waking him up at night with a single person on his mind. 

Most people would use their punishment to Mount Targon as an opportunity to flee, and start anew somewhere else. 

Taric did not. And it haunted Garen. 

So when he came back, Garen didn't come running like he wished he could. He stayed in Demacia, shouldering his duties like a true soldier, burying his feelings like a true warrior. It was too late to turn back, or so he thought.

It was a very gentle knock, contrasting with the very heavy footsteps that had preceded it, that jolted Garen out of his reverie, one evening after training. He had been sitting at the wooden table, alone, like most of his days ever since Lux had left Demacia, half-heartedly drinking lukewarm coffee.

The beverage was only a feeble attempt to stay up through the night to sort out paperwork, but it never really worked the way Garen intended. He knew this very well, but kept drinking out of habit, crumbling into bed something like three hours later, long after the sun had gone down, but long before he was done.

There were no guards posted directly in front of his residence, he'd made sure of it in case... in case his sister decided to visit. The soldier sure hoped she'd refrain, now that she was known as a mage. Returning to into Demacia's unwelcoming arms would be foolish and naïve. But at this point, he expected anything from Lux. She was fierce and fearless, like all the Crownguards before her.

This time, he knew it wasn't her, despite the soft manners of the person outside. From the footsteps, it was someone much heavier than his sister, probably a polite guard coming in to fetch Garen for someone else. A mission order, maybe?

Rubbing the back of his neck - the muscles there always felt stiff after combat - he opened the door wide, barely looking at his vis-à-vis, until the purple light emanating from them flooded the room, pulling his eyes towards the figure in front of him. 

For a moment, Garen could not speak.

He knew this face. He knew it very well, although it seemed more mature, more angular than the last time he'd seen it. The man looking back at him had the gentle demeanor he could remember, but with an added grace that contrasted with his imposing figure. Despite being all muscle, he radiated something warm and tender, so non-threatening that the demacian was taken aback. 

They had told him Taric had changed. This was not what he had imagined when they told him of the Protector.

For a moment, he could only look in wonder, almost intimidated by the sheer presence of his old friend. He couldn't be missed, with the flamboyant crystals floating by his side, his long brown hair swayed by the wind. Upon seeing Garen, his eyes filled with something warm and welcoming, smile widening, and he made a movement towards the door. 

"Garen. It has been such a long time... Would you allow me to come in?" His voice was just as Garen remembered, but calmer, and more powerful in a very charismatic way. It felt strange and foreign, yet familiar.

With a stiff nod of the head, Garen moved out of the way, allowing his childhood friend to step inside, motioning limply towards one of the three wooden chairs for Taric to sit down. 

But instead of doing so, the other man stepped forwards towards him, and without much warning wrapped his arms tightly around Garen's shoulders, pulling him in for an embrace. 

It was unexpected, though definitely not out of character, and it took a while for Garen to hug him back. He wasn't too used to this kind of blatant show of affection anymore, only ever hugging his sister once in a while when she insisted. And it felt somewhat unreal to be reunited like this, the warmth of Taric's body against his, embrace tight around his shoulders, long strands of hair tickling his nose and bringing a familiar scent of flowers and citrus. It brought back so many memories.

"I would have warned you of my coming but... Excuse my boldness, you've never been good at dealing with your feelings," Taric said bluntly, with a laugh. "I figured I had higher chances of catching you if I came in uninvited." 

Taric smiled again, taking a step back, eyes roaming Garen's face with intense curiosity, crow's feet deepening around his eyes whenever he met the man's stare.

Garen's mouth opened, then closed in a pout, frown deepening for a moment as he seemed to think. Then he laughed a little, rubbing a hand over his tired face. 

"I mean... sure. You're not wrong. I... didn't expect you," he replied, somewhat flatly.

"I know. That is the point of coming uninvited." Taric laughed again while sitting down, smoothing over the fabric of his pants, gems still slowly revolving around him. 

His identity as an Aspect was unmistakable, his presence filling the room like he was thrice his size, light radiating from him. His laugh sounded like music, his eyes looked like two bright stones glistening with glee, and he carried himself with delicacy.

"That isn't what I meant." Garen said, voice slightly dry as he cautiously sat in front of his old friend, eyeing him carefully. "I did not expect you." There were a few seconds where he said nothing more. "At all." 

The smile on Taric's face did not falter, though the sadness was fully visible in his bright blue eyes, his face so expressive, so full of life. Devoid of any animosity. Only tenderness. 

"Really? Did you expect me to ignore my best friend until the end of time? Garen, I thought you knew me." There it was again, the soft way he said his name, the way it filled the soldier's chest with warmth and chased any bad thoughts away. This was not what he had imagined their reunion would be like. To be fair, he hadn't even imagined there would be a reunion at all.

It was hard to fully remember what happened next, the things they talked about then. It all had fallen into place naturally, but felt so surreal. Taric told him tales of Mount Targon, and behind the smiles and the laughs Garen knew he was keeping the more painful details of his ascension hidden. 

This new Taric felt familiar, but also alien in a way that was hard to describe. He could see his former best friend, his face and his eyes, but the newfound attitude, the way he moved, walked and talked, it all screamed of something higher than Garen would ever be. It was foreign, but pulling him towards the man like a magnet, opening him up so easily to his presence, relaxing him in a situation that should have left him anxious. 

He could recall the words spilling from his mouth while he busied himself boiling water for an infusion, telling the story of Lux and Sylas, how the outlaw had managed to sway his sister towards another path. How he now felt somewhat torn. On one hand, Garen truly believed in Demacia and its politics, but on the other... Lux was a smart girl with an acute sense of justice. And he trusted her in her decisions. 

Taric seemed to take it all in, listening intently from the chair in which he sat, the golden rays of the setting sun bathing him in a gentle light. It wasn't a good idea to confide like this, so soon, so easily. As a soldier Garen should have known better, and he was aware of that, but something about Taric made him feel safe, listened to, cared for. It was hard to resist this feeling after years of not having anyone to lean onto.

The conversation kept the both of them awake through half of the night, and in the end, Garen found himself preparing the guest room for Taric, almost without thinking about it, inviting the Aspect to spend the night there which the other man agreed to wholeheartedly. 

That night, Garen fell asleep faster than he had in years, plunging into a deep slumber that seemed to soothe all his worries. When he woke up the following day, he blamed it on the infusion. But deep down, he knew it wasn't that.

One night turned into two, Taric's presence becoming harder to send away. Garen felt more focused, more at ease with the man by his side, organising papers faster than usual. While he was training at the barracks, he found himself longing to go home, while usually he would simply lose himself in the physical effort, praying for it to never end. When he came back, Taric would rub his back, a foreign gesture that left Garen confused about its nature. He'd drag his hands across the skin, skilled fingers melting away the knots underneath, pulling the stress away from Garen’s body, relaxing his broad shoulders. The warrior always felt strangely ashamed to receive such attention, but once Taric was done, it felt like all the weight had been lifted off his back. Like his body was just a little bit less cumbersome.

Several times he came home to find Taric watering the plants outside. Once, he even saw him napping near the flowerbeds, rising from the grass once he heard Garen's footsteps. Slowly but surely, Taric eased himself back into Garen's life. And the demacian knew he'd have to let him go someday, back to his duties as an Aspect, back to protecting the weaker. But for a week he enjoyed having his best friend back by his side.

Around the sixth night, Garen was woken up by the sound of a window opening, the hinges creaking slightly. It was barely noticeable, but it was enough for his trained ear. He was a battlefield soldier, far from being a guard, but keen senses were mandatory on the job, exactly for cases like these. 

Exactly for when an assassin stepped in the next room, ready to slaughter his guest, probably. Barely grabbing his sword as he stumbled out of bed, Garen dashed towards the door, opened it roughly, and froze in his tracks. 

The scene displayed was as beautiful as it was sad, and it made something drop to the pit of his stomach, choking him up a little bit. 

Stripped of his armour, Taric was sitting on the bed in a simple cotton attire he used at night. The deep blue fabric contrasted with his skin, even paler now, bathed directly in the moonlight. Resting against the wall, the Aspect had been looking out the window before Garen barged in, and was now staring at him, briefly looking like a deer caught by a hunter. 

Then, quickly, that expression was replaced by Taric’s usual smile, facade sliding into place as to not worry his host. His hair swayed slowly with the wind, in time with the silken curtains he'd parted to open the windows wide. Caught in his lashes were dozens of tears, streaks gleaming along his chiselled cheeks, and the man wiped them down with the sleeve of his pajamas, falling back into his charismatic persona with that unfaltering smile.

Even the gems by his side, which had looked duller than usual, seemed to spring back to life in an instant, erasing all traces of the weakness Garen had caught a glimpse of. It felt wrong, to see this force of nature so vulnerable, so open. It felt even worse to know he was never supposed to see it, yet saw it anyways, just because of old, intrusive habits. 

Before he could open his mouth and blubber an apology, throat tight with shame, it was Taric who apologized, calm and composed as if nothing happened at all.

"I'm sorry, I did not mean to wake you up. You can go back to sleep, Garen, everything's fine." The lie was almost convincing, but the demacian wasn't naive enough to believe it. 

Garen took a few steps forward, discarding his sword against the wall before he closed the door behind him without a sound, feeling like a clumsy giant all of a sudden. Carefully, watching out for any sign of him not being welcome here, he approached the bed, sat down besides Taric and found himself at a loss for words. He opened his mouth uselessly then closed it, watching the Aspect carefully observe him, without a word.

The other man's chest was still heaving from the crying, breath ever so slightly ragged, limpid blue eyes still a little humid, still shining with sadness. Slowly, very carefully, Garen lifted a hand to his friend's face, pulling a long strand of hair behind his ear, vaguely caressing his cheek. 

His hand slid down the side of Taric's face, a featherlight touch, almost shy in nature. He felt more than he saw the shiver that ran down the Aspect's spine, and stopped all movement for a moment, as if Taric would pull away, run away, disappear into thin air. In the turquoise eyes of his lifelong friend, he could sense a great sadness, pain lodged inside the mind, under the skull, hard to get rid of. Poisoning his nights.

Deep down, Garen had always regretted having to cast away someone so dear to him, and when he learned Taric decided to climb Mount Targon, an ascension that would most likely lead to his death, the soldier had to focus on something else entirely, anything else, anything the world threw at him to not sink into depression. 

But now, his best friend was back. Changed. Beautiful and glowing, radiating a strength that felt almost blinding. Something fierce but gentle, like a steady hand on his shoulder, accompanying him through the days. 

It was hard to remember the little boy he had been now that he looked at Taric's handsome face, thick brows slightly creased upwards, straight nose red from crying. His plump lips were still stretched in a warm smile though, the crow's feet creasing at the sides of his eyes, as always whenever he smiled. A few remnants of his tears pearled along his long lashes, occasionally dripping down to his cheeks where they rolled down, fell from his jaw, disappeared onto the fabric below. 

The bed was still warm where Garen sat, warm from Taric's body resting there. How long had Taric been awake? How long had he been crying? 

It felt wrong, somehow, to see the man cry. As if this wasn't meant to be. As if it was outrageous now, to catch this beautiful being in a moment of vulnerability that hadn't been intended for Garen. And Garen felt guilty for having barged in like a fool.

Softly, his calloused hand settled on the edge of Taric's jaw, thumb smoothing the skin over in a rhythmic motion. The Aspect didn't move, gentle gaze watching over Garen, awaiting for him to do something. It was hard to interpret whether this was an invitation or a rejection, the expression on Taric's face puzzling now, even though his eyes roamed over Garen's face. Maybe he was unreadable, too. Maybe that was why no one moved for a moment.

There was some form of longing in Taric’s radiant blue eyes, and it would've made Garen uncomfortable in the past, but now he realized he didn't care. Taric made a wonderful sight, hair framing his face and neck in long soft strands, tickling the back of Garen’s hand when he finally pulled the man closer, forehead against his own, wanting to tear his gaze away from those beautiful eyes, but unable to. Entranced.

"Why..." He started in a whisper, unsure of himself. 

Garen wasn't good at this, never had been. He was the muscle, others were the brain. That was how it had been since he was a child, more so after Lux had been born, clever as she was. By all accounts, most thought him stupid in comparison, and sometimes Garen wondered if they were right. Still, he kept going. 

"What is it... that made you sad?" he asked as softly as he could, voice still raspy from sleep. 

From the window, behind the curtain that Taric had parted, the moon shone her gentle light upon them, and he felt seen by all the stars surrounding her. Taric's laugh took him by surprise, nothing close to the frank, loud laughing he was used to, but something akin to a low chuckle, almost whispered.

"Thank you for worrying about me, Garen. It means a lot to me." His voice was so sincere, so loving that it was touching, made Garen's heart melt inside it's cage of bones, almost managing to distract him from the fact that Taric had not answered his question at all. 

Suddenly, the proximity felt a little too much, Taric's half lidded eyes scanning Garen's, making it harder to hold his gaze. Making it harder to ignore the pain, but also the longing in those irises, which felt more and more mutual the longer Garen stayed close. Still, it gnawed at the back of his mind, the desire for an answer. 

"Please. Tell me. Why do you cry?" he asked, voice coming out more pleading than intended. 

Taric shut his eyes, features frozen in an expression of pain, and he took a long breath in, shakily. 

"I was… reminiscing," he murmured, seemingly searching for words. "About before my ascension. How I failed… everyone. How I failed you." 

Garen felt his chest tighten, reflexively closing a broad hand around Taric's shoulder, in a way he meant to be comforting. Mindlessly, he kept rubbing his thumb against the man's face, feeling the smooth shaved skin under the digit, forehead still pressed against his friend's.

"You redeemed yourself. You are an aspect of Targon. There is no greater-"

"I know." Taric shut him up, bringing a finger to Garen's lips, which had the soldier's heart jump in his chest. "And I am proud. I am finally the protector I wished I was. I now hold the power to help those who need me, to preserve the love and beauty of this world." Slowly, his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Garen. "There is nothing else I want to be."

Garen swallowed thickly, mouth dry. Taric's voice was so quiet now, barely audible. It felt as if he was confiding a secret of the utmost importance, and it made Garen realize how he'd never been in such an intimate position with anyone. Just as he thought of this, he felt a hand slowly slide up the back of his neck, caressing the hair there. 

"Sometimes, I just wish I could have stayed by your side. That is all." Their eyes met, blue against green, and Taric's smile widened, honest and unashamed in his admission, in his confession. Garen had never been very perceptive emotionally speaking, but even he wasn't dense enough to not understand. 

It felt like a punch to the gut, and yet something in him swooned, pushed him towards Taric. Those blue eyes, gentle turquoises, they were hypnotic. He was unable to look away.

"… You're here now. Yes?" He felt awkward, he felt dumb, head cloudy and mouth dry. "We can make up for lost time." 

From where he was, he could feel Taric's breath on his cheek, cool in the summer night's wind. And they were closer now, noses touching, looking at each other through eyelashes. Garen realized he'd been leaning forward, and the hand he'd put on Taric's shoulder slid up to cup his face. He felt the hand in his hair tighten around the base of his neck, pulling him closer ever so slightly.

Without thinking he closed the gap, eyes shut, nose sliding to the side, nested against Taric's cheek. Their lips met and it felt right, made his heart jump again, pulse quickening in his neck. The kiss remained chaste at first, slow and hesitant on Garen's side, gentle and reassuring from Taric. 

Soon enough though, the Aspect parted his lips, wet tongue sliding in Garen's mouth, exploring rather eagerly while he secured a hand on the demacian's hips. Heat flared up in the soldier's cheeks at the way Taric pressed their bodies together, leaning into his embrace without hesitation. 

They broke apart after a few moments, breathing heavy and eyes dazed. Taric's lips were pink and shiny from the kiss, and it only made Garen want to kiss him some more. Somewhere along the road his hands had slid down onto the Aspect's shoulders, holding onto them.

Taric smiled in a heartfelt way, sliding against him. He was halfway on his lap and snuggled close, wrapping his arms around Garen's neck. 

It was bold and free of guilt. Tender, but also sensual, the way he parted his thighs slightly to climb onto Garen’s lap, the top of his pajamas hanging a little low, showing off his clavicles and the top of his pectorals. That same longing in his eyes. The raspy whisper that followed. 

"I love you Garen. I have for a very, very long time…" 

In another place and time, maybe the words would have surprised the soldier. But looking back on it, thinking back on it, it made sense. Always had. Taric loved everyone, Taric was nice to everyone. But there had always been something special towards Garen, a sincere affection. A younger him thought it was friendship. But now he knew exactly what it was. And he knew what to say. 

"I… I do, too. I don't think I knew for quite some time." It was difficult to say exactly what he wanted, especially with Taric hanging off his neck, looking up at him with those dreamy eyes of his. 

So Garen just kissed him instead, leaning down into the warmth of his mouth, of his plump lips rubbing against Garen’s. The softness of the tongue inside, intertwined with his, the wet noise of it bringing heat to the tip of his ears, and to the pit of his belly. 

Taric made a breathless sound against him, holding on tighter, and Garen's hands fit right on his hips, holding them in place, against his. 

Which was such a delightful idea, albeit an embarrassing one, now that his body was waking up slowly to the presence against him, to the way Taric's muscular thighs rubbed against his, the feeling of his strong arms around his neck. It was impressive how graceful the man managed to be with a stature like his, tall and muscular, yet as elegant as a dancer. Garen felt like a stick in comparison, stiff everywhere, jaw always clenched. 

He took advantage of Taric catching his breath to kiss down his chin, leaving innocent pecks along the line of his jaw, then in the crook of his neck. The way his friend - no, his lover - sighed at the touch comforted him in his choice, and with a little more confidence, Garen pushed him down smoothly, delighted to feel the Aspect go along with the movement, lying down on the bed. 

There was a little bit of shuffling as they positioned their legs more comfortably, Garen still kissing a trail down the man's neck, with soft wet noises. Taric chuckled with glee when the kisses tickled, and Garen felt something warm up his chest, curious hands sliding under Taric’s pajamas to feel his muscular sides and abdomen, gliding up to his compact torso. 

Without a moment of hesitation, Taric took off his top, exposing his upper body, the smooth, shaved skin, the pectorals, the jutting lines of his muscles carefully carved along his belly, down to his navel. 

Garen wasn't sure, but he thought he'd made a choked up noise at the sight, earning a grin from his lover. It was a little overwhelming, a lot to take in. Sex wasn't exactly something he was familiar with, despite his popularity among both men and women. He'd read things, obviously. In secret. But being there, in the flesh, in a bed with another person… It was a new, unexplored territory.

Taric seemed to sense his doubt, taking his left hand and holding it firmly before kissing it once or twice. Slowly, he brought it to his chest, where he showed Garen what to do, how to caress him, slowly tracing a path on his torso. He showed him how to tease, rub the hardened nipples, chuckling at the way his lover's fascinated eyes seemed glued to his hand, the tent in his pants clearly visible from where he laid.

Tearing his eyes away from the erotic sight before he choked up any more, Garen went back to the kissing, mouthing slowly at the clavicles, leaving hickeys along them. Taric sucked a sharp breath in, hand grabbing at the short brown hair, guiding his lover's head downwards, downwards, downwards where Garen kissed and sucked a path on the skin. His hands cupped Taric's pecs, thumbing over the nipples for a little while, just like he was shown, then slowly tracing patterns on his waist, feeling the muscle moving underneath the skin while kissing at the bellybutton. 

He felt a little anxious, unsure of himself, but the sighs and quiet moans that escaped Taric's throat motivated him to trust his gut and go further.

With unprecise movements he removed Taric's pajama pants where his erection was already visible, biting his lip at the sight of the bulge in his lover's underwear. Deep down, Garen felt his ego deflate a little bit. They were both big men, tall, muscular, and thus they were both rather gifted in the neither regions… Taric more than Garen. But it was a pointless contest.

From there on, Taric seemed to take a little more control, which he already had plenty of, by removing his undergarments himself and freeing his erection from the retraining fabric with a satisfied sigh. Fumbling with his clothes, he finally threw them off the bed, shooting Garen a languorous look that shot straight to the soldier's dick. 

With intense focus he watched Taric slowly trace along his erect member, teasing himself by running the tip of his fingers along the length, barely touching the soft head.

He was gorgeous. There was no other way to put it.

Taric was laid there, bare against the mattress, letting Garen take in the view of him without shying away. Around his angular face, his long silken hair splayed out like a halo, framing his face as to put emphasis on it. There, his half-lidded eyes looked up at his lover expectantly, gleaming playfully in the dim light, crowned by long dark lashes. His jaw, strong and square, clenched slightly once in a while when fingers feathered over a sensitive spot, while his lips stretched in that eternal smile of his. Slowly, Taric ran his tongue over the lower lip, coating it in a thin layer of saliva, taunting in a provocative way.

He was making a show of himself, right before Garen's eyes, strong thighs spread open, squirming hips in a rhythmic motion, eyes locked into his lover's with a blazing confidence. It was as erotic as it was intimidating, the way the muscles rolled under the skin, tensed and released. Regularly his abs clenched, hardening the edges of the muscle, strong chest heaving. The moonlight only accentuated the shapes, angles and curves contrasted by the pale blue glow around them. 

Garen now understood why he was the Aspect of Beauty. It was only fitting for a man so gorgeous.

The demacian swallowed thickly, his own erection straining against his pants, wet spot reminding him of the pressing need in his groin growing by the second. With imprecise movements he got rid of his shorts, discarding them on the floor where Taric's clothes were.

And then Garen stood, uncertain of what to do, body burning with desire and fully exposed, showing his muscular shoulders, compact torso where thin brown hair trailed downwards to his navel, happy trail leading towards his genitals. 

Taric's eyes were fixated on him, and he felt revealed, completely naked both physically and emotionally. It didn't feel bad, not exactly, Garen just felt too self-conscious to let go of his fear. What if he didn't measure up to Taric? It was a stupid thought and he knew it. Taric could find beauty in the most mundane things, and he was far from being the only person who expressed interest in the demacian. And yet… 

Now, Garen was afraid. Afraid of being too large, too hairy. Not graceful enough. He felt heavy and awkward, hot and bothered, and mostly ashamed of his inability to partake. It should have been easy and fun, and yet he felt himself spiral into anxiety. Hah, what a joke. Garen Crownguard, unwavering on the battlefield, incapable in bed. 

His chain of self-depreciative thoughts was stopped sharply when he felt strong arms circle his back, pulling him downwards. Garen found himself laying on top of Taric, who stared at his face with a concerned look, a hand slowly caressing his hair. 

With great care and gentleness, his lover kissed his face, starting from the forehead, smooching between his brows where the crease of Garen's frown was. The heat of the body against his was comforting in a way, soothing the anxiety a little bit as Taric kissed down his eyelids, his cheeks, his lips. Slowly, the strong, soft hands started rubbing circles into his shoulders, his back, sliding further down his body to feather over his derriere, and Taric shot him a wondering look.

A noise caught in Garen's throat, body flaring up again, and the soldier managed to hide in the crook of his lover's neck under the pretense of leaving a trail of hickeys there, sucking on the skin with wet noises that sounded a lot more obscene than anticipated.

With a quiet chuckle, Taric spread his legs a little more, allowing Garen's hips to fit against his comfortably, ripping a moan out of both their throats as their erections touched, burning skin against burning skin. 

Garen's body tightened, his hands finding their place on the other man's waist, where he firmly grabbed while nipping at the skin of Taric's neck, leaving a trail of reddish marks. Slowly, his lover's hands guided him, rolling his hips, and it wasn't very difficult to pick up the pace. 

It was excruciating, but in a delicious manner, the way their cocks rubbed together, taut skin so sensitive. Garen let out a shaky moan against Taric's skin, breathing already hard and laborious. It was a little dry, a little painful, but the relief of feeling some contact against his aching member was enough to keep going, slowly, gently. 

Once the rythm became steady, Garen felt one of Taric's soft hands slide down his hip to take hold of their erections, tightening his grip slightly just enough to make him jolt. He made a breathless noise, thrusting forward by reflex, and the long hum of pleasure escaping Taric's throat sent shivers down his spine. 

Taric began tugging slowly, grip steady against the genitals, back arched away from the mattress. The demacian rolled his hips a little faster, a little harder, thrusting into Taric's hand fervently, moans spilling freely from his mouth. It felt amazing to be touched this way, Taric's free hand roaming his body, grabbing and caressing what it could get.

After a little while Garen felt his lover pull on his hair, gently but insistently, and raised his head to be met with a passionate kiss, though somewhat sloppy, tongues intertwining as a string of saliva slid down his chin. The frotting was less painful, more pleasurable now that precum dripped from his swollen head, spread over them both by Taric's hand. The lubrication brought slicker movements and erotic noises, wet and sticky, naughty enough to make his head spin.

Despite the smell of sex hanging in the hair, the intense effort and sweat rolling down his back, there was something incredibly tender about the act, the way Taric's arms held Garen tightly, his face buried into the top of his hair. It was difficult to hold the embrace with the frantic movements of their hips, but it didn't stop the Aspect from rubbing circles into the strained muscles of Garen's waist, from trying to kiss his face whenever he could reach it, showering him in affection.

Taric's left hand stopped stroking their erections to focus more his lover, which earned him a pleading groan, but the movement in Garen's hips didn't stop. The demacian seemed less unsure now, letting go of the fear, drowned in the pleasure, and Taric made it his job to cuddle him as much as possible, kissing every inch of skin he could reach, massaging his back and shoulders. He let his hands slide freely along the large body, feeling the muscles roll under the tough skin, running his fingers along the battle scars scattered everywhere. 

The Aspect kissed his man fiercely, relishing in his presence, keeping him close with an embrace. With half lidded eyes he watched the sweat bead on Garen's forehead, the muscles of his neck tensing, the way his eyebrows knitted, lips bitten to try and cage away the sounds of pleasure. 

The redness on Garen’s face was creeping from his ears to the tip of his nose, deep blushing from both shyness and effort, and Taric made a point of complimenting him, on and on. 

"Look at you, you're so… handsome." With the rhythm of their hips growing faster, it was difficult to speak clearly, moans interrupting his sentences more often than not.

The words surprised Garen, whose eyes shot open, giving his lover a look of confusion. With a gentle smile, Taric gently stroked his cheek, then his hair, keeping eye contact. 

"Yes you… you're so good at this, Garen. I love having you against me, so much, so, so much. You're gorgeous, you're- adorable, dazzling." 

The praise seemed to hit the spot, Garen's blush deepening as he tried to hide his face into the crook of his lover's face once again, kissing his ear. The movements of his hips became erratic, the tension in his belly growing by the second, especially now that compliments were spilling from Taric's mouth like a fountain. It felt embarassing, but extremely arousing at the same time and Garen did his best to hold the eye contact when Taric raised his head again, looking directly at him. 

"No, look at me, my love, please. I want to see your beautiful face. I want to kiss you forever, you're so good, so good, and stunning, and-" 

The praise was cut short by a strangled noise, and Garen tensed against him, face frozen with a look of pleasure. His shoulders braced, hips shaking with the effort as he came, semen dripping from the swollen tip of his dick onto Taric's belly. 

With heavy breathing, Garen's movements stopped as he kept relishing in the never-ending praise, Taric's long fingers brushing against his face, drawing the contour of his cheeks, of his strong jaw, feeling his lips with the fingertips. There was no sound in the little room but ragged breathing for a moment, Garen dazed by the afterglow, until his emerald eyes opened, a little humid, a little bashful. 

"I…" He wasn't sure what to say, mortified for having climaxed so soon, without even bringing his partner to an orgasm. "… Sorry." 

Taric gave him a bewildered look before cupping his face between his hands and planting a chaste kiss on his lips. 

"What are you apologizing for, my one?" His voice was barely a whisper, so thoughtful and loving.

The tips of their noses rubbed together, Garen's breathing still heavy. He felt like a clumsy giant, but Taric's constant tenderness and reassurance helped calm the feeling down, helped him feel a little more natural. 

Slowly, Taric got a hold of his hand, guiding it to his member. Garen realized he knew what to do, just how to place his hand around the base of the cock, stroking it's full length with care, running his thumb over the head. 

Taric's breath quickened, and he let go of his lover's hand, throwing his arms around his neck. From his lips spilled more compliments, in a husky whisper tone, encouragements for Garen to keep going, keep going, keep going. At the same time he massaged his back a little bit, pressing fingers down on the muscles there until the pleasure was too much to focus. 

Garen placed a hand flat on his abdomen, feeling the muscles tensing like steel beneath the smooth skin, swallowing thickly when cum started to bead at the tip of Taric's erection, before the Aspect finally arched his back in a delightful way, a long winded moan escaping his mouth, spilling seed where Garen's had only minutes before. It felt almost too lewd to hear such a sound coming from him, but Taric didn't seem to care, face flushed deep and hips taut with effort, hands curling into Garen's short hair as if his life depended on it. 

Finally, the tension came down, his lover falling back into the mattress with a content sigh, eyes closed and face relaxed. His lover hummed low as he slid down against him, nesting their naked bodies against one another, feeling strong calves against his, soft hands rubbing his back. There was a sort of peaceful feeling taking over him now, and the Demacian slid his arms under the other man's waist, circling him in a tight embrace. 

For a moment, neither of them spoke, simply laid there together, listening to each other's breathing evening out, calming down to become quiet. Finally, one of Taric's hands slid back up to play with Garen's hair while he looked his lover in the eye.

"I didn't expect to feel so…" Garen's voice trailed off for a moment, brows furrowed as he thought of what to say. "Vulnerable? I think that's the word." 

"Isn't it the first time you’ve bedded someone?" Taric pointed out, voice soft and sincere.

"It is." Garen replied, less bashful now that Taric looked at his face, not his body. 

"Then it is perfectly normal to feel vulnerable. Sharing a moment of intimacy like this is beautiful, but like all new experiences, it's intimidating." 

"I suppose so. I simply thought myself more determined," he said, voice dry against the skin of Taric's neck. 

The Aspect laughed and kissed the top of his forehead, tightening the hug. "You haven't changed at all, have you? Humans cannot be made of steel all the time. They wouldn't be human if they could. You need to learn how to be kinder with yourself, my love." 

It felt weird to hear Taric exclude himself from the human race, but it made sense. He was an Aspect of Targon now, something more than human. It also felt strange to be given pet names, though he liked it more than expected. It felt like a testimony of him being special, Taric's exclusive lover. 

The soldier nodded with a sigh. 

"I guess you're right. I… I enjoyed it. A lot." There was still this desire in his voice to gain back his confidence, betraying his embarrassment. 

"I did, too. You are so beautiful, so handsome. I could look at you forever, do you know?" The kind words brought more heat to Garen's face, and he let out an awkward chuckle, shifting slightly against Taric. 

"I should be the one to say that. Ever since you came back, I haven't been able to stop admiring you. The..." He vaguely gestured towards the numerous gems floating midair around them. "The gems really make the look complete." 

There was laughter, and then a pause, as they enjoyed the time spent together, cuddled close. At some point, Garen suggested a shower, the idea met with enthusiasm by his lover. The feeling of hot water sliding down his body coupled with the sight of Taric rubbing shampoo into his long hair with care almost awakened his body again, but the soldier managed to keep it under lock. 

Physically, Garen could endure a second round, body trained to stay active for long periods of time. But emotionally, he felt like it would be too much in one go. He was already surprised by his own bashfulness, having expected to take charge without problem. But in a way, he was grateful for the way Taric guided him, without judgement or impatience. Besides, they would have time. Time to experiment, explore, get to know each other's bodies and preferences. 

They left a trail of droplets from the bathroom to the bed despite the towels, door closed behind them, pajamas retrieved from the floor. Now comfortably cuddled up against one another, the two men held each other in silence, Garen's hand lost in the long strands of Taric's hair, eyes roaming his face. Only now did it set in, the reality of their blossoming relationship, the realness of their sex, memories of their bodies intertwining still vivid in Garen's mind. 

To think he could have missed out on this, on that reprieve from the training and the fights, on this feeling of "home" that had been slightly off ever since Taric was cast away. Garen knew, now, from the deepest corner of his heart, that if Taric had died on Mount Targon, he never would have forgiven himself.

But now, truly, could it get any better? In his hometown, heart of the country he served, in the arms of the man he loved. They had closed the window, to prevent the cool air of the night to settle in too much, blanket comfortably laid atop of their bodies providing a much needed warmth. Taric's breathing was now calm against him, chest slowly rising, deflating, again and again in a calming motion.

Garen was slowly drifting asleep, head resting on the Aspect's shoulder, when his voice roused him up slightly from his slumber. 

"I have seen fragments of adjacent realities," Taric said, voice tainted with a sadness that prompted Garen to straighten his back, observing his lover's face better. "Moments stolen in time. Of worlds that may have been. In one of them…" 

There was a pause, perhaps hesitation betrayed in Taric's voice, before he continued, voice soft, but drenched in pain. 

"In one of them, I carried your corpse from the gates of Noxus back to Demacia." 

The words felt like a punch to the mouth, and Garen felt his stomach twist, a feeling of dread settling between his shoulder blades. Had this really happened, somewhere, in another place and time? Had Taric gone through this pain alone while climbing Mount Targon, carrying the corpse of his dead friend? 

But despite the horror of it, it explained Taric's return to him, the lingering of his presence in his home. The tears which, only an hour ago, still decorated his eyelashes and rolled down his cheeks. With a saddened pout, Garen leaned down towards his man for a tender kiss, fingers slowly brushing the hair away from his face. Gently, he rubbed the tip of his nose against the Aspect's, giving him a smile. 

"The price to pay for redemption… It must have been a painful one. But here and now, I'm nowhere else. And I don't intend to die." Garen's voice was confident, aspiring to be reassuring as he put his forehead against Taric's. 

"I know you don't. You're Demacia's best fighter. I intend for you to keep this title for a long, long time." 

Time flew then, more and more blurry as they kept talking, of less serious subjects and of silly things. The warmth under the covers seemed to soothe all worries for now, moon still sending it's gentle light upon them, bathing the room in a blue glow. When Garen fell asleep, Taric was still talking, his throat vibrating against the Demacian's ear, accompanying him as he drifted to sleep. 

The next morning, when Garen woke up, his lover was still laying in the bed, eyes closed and face relaxed, hair splayed out in the soldier's face. Getting out of bed as quietly as possible, Garen filled the steel kettle with water, fetching a chamomile tea blend from the cupboards. 

It was Lux's, but she hasn't taken it with her when she left in a hurry, a few months back. Garen had taken the habit of infusing some in the morning, the scent of it filling the kitchen, bringing back memories of simpler times. It was a way to combat the loneliness, remind himself of his sister's presence.

It was a little thing he liked.

The large man didn't turn around upon hearing footsteps, motioning towards another cupboard instead. 

"Can you fetch mugs for me please?" Garen's voice was calm, collected, closer to his usual temperament than it had been that night. Sleep had brought its peace, sorting his self-esteem issues for the moment, leaving him the proud and confident man everyone knew.

Taric obliged without a word, setting down the mugs on the table, retrieving the sugar from its box. Once the kettle started whining, Garen cut the fire out, settling at the table, facing his now lover, and poured the tea into each of their mugs, carefully.

It felt domestic in a way. Comforting, warm, the way a home should be. Far from the coldness Garen had felt after his sister left, all alone and somewhat lost. Now he felt more aware, more relaxed. The birds chirping outside brought a smile to his face, the sun rays filtering through the window no longer annoyed him. They felt welcome now, especially with the way they framed Taric's figure, shining golden hues in his hair. By his side, as always, the gems floated lazily, radiating their purplish light, beautiful and fascinating. 

He'd found them strange at first, having trouble getting used to moving around them. Now, they felt comforting. 

And he loved the way they glowed.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, here we go! I wrote this quite a few months ago actually, but didn't get around to posting it until now. I know Garen's portrayal may not be everyone's cup of tea, but I'm way too fond of the "strong soldier actually super shy in the face of intimacy" trope to let it go so easily.
> 
> Thank you for reading ;D


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